


He Was Tall

by inkheart1125



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Check Please - Freeform, Christmas, Closeted, Coming Out, Dex - Freeform, First Kiss, First Meeting, Holidays, Jack - Freeform, Library, Library AU, M/M, Mistletoe, Ransom, Winter, bitty - Freeform, chowder, farmer - Freeform, holster - Freeform, lardo - Freeform, nursey - Freeform, omgcp - Freeform, shitty - Freeform, zimbits - Freeform, zimbits au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8758570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkheart1125/pseuds/inkheart1125
Summary: Eric Bittle is 22 years old and a librarian at Providence's newest addition, the Jefferson's Memorial Library (he also teaches a baking class on the weekends). Bitty has a lot going for him: a nice apartment in the city, two part-time jobs that pay well, and a bank account with almost enough money to open up his own bakery. He's immensely happy. Bitty would never have predicted that one scarf mishap would completely change the course of his life in Providence.Jack has been playing on the Providence Falconers for a little over two years, and it's all he ever could have dreamed of. For the first time since college, he's genuinely happy. With a career in the NHL, hobbies like running and photography, and his online history class, Jack's bliss is at an all-time high. This changes when he receives a strange prediction from a psychic, and Jack's anxiety picks back up again.





	

It was a day that omitted yellow. The radiant being that was Eric Bittle swayed as he walked, and the keys in his pocket jingled with each step.  _Another good ol' Monday morning_. Eric, who went by the nickname Bitty, was dressed in a long-sleeved cotton shirt with a jacket and scarf layering on top of it to keep warm. He also had on loose jeans and his favorite pair of winter boots (he nearly had his head taken off as he ran for the shoes on Black Friday), as well as a warm beanie covering his head and ears. For it to only be November 30th, the temperature was pretty freezing. Bitty never knew temps below 40, and this day was _well_ under 32 degrees.

Bitty unlocked the Jefferson's Memorial Library and walked inside, the smell of new books and cold air enveloping him in a bittersweet hug. He'd have to turn on the heat before the library opened. Bitty made his way to all three floors to sweep and neaten the rooms and genre aisles. Usually, there would be another staff member or volunteer doing this work while he setup at the front desk, but Derek— the morning volunteer— couldn't come in until later, so there would be nobody to help Bitty open the library this morning. All of the hard work was on him.

Half an hour passed, and 8 AM rolled around. The library was officially open. The Jefferson's Memorial Library— Jefferson's— was a very new library to Providence, and had only been officially opened in early October. A good amount of people came in each day, but not nearly as many as the bigger libraries around the city. Usually it was full of old folks in the morning, and then once school got out, there'd be high schoolers studying. A new history course was going to be taught in the downstairs conference room starting in December, so there'd be a new crowd with new faces pretty soon. Bitty could not wait! 

"Hey Bits. Sorry about this morning- I had to help Fatima pack her things. She's heading back to college now that Thanksgiving break is over for her," Derek peeled off his warm layers and tossed them in the staff room, "Ah nice, you already got the heat going."

A big smile spread on Bitty's face, "Derek! I was so sure you weren't coming in at all today, it's nice to see your face! And make sure to tell your little sister that I say 'hi' and 'good luck' on her finals! I'll make her blueberry pie to celebrate once she comes back in December!"

Derek laughed at Bitty's enthusiasm, something that was always common so early in the morning but still baffled him, "Will do. And Bitty, how many times do I have tell you to stop calling me Derek? The only people who do that are, like, my grandparents. Please, dude, call me Nursey."

"Oh gosh! I did it again, huh? You'd think after a month or so of working with you that I'd learn to ignore the name-tag and use your nickname? You've got to start using a spray bottle on me or something."

The boys spend the next few minutes "spilling the tea" (gossiping) since there had been an entire weekend since they had seen each other. Lots had happened. If there was anything those boys had in common besides a love of literature, it was a juicy gossip session. Soon, though, it had to come to an end because the morning crowd was making its way to the library and would probably stay there until closing hours. 

The elderly men and women shuffled in from the cold and planted themselves at computer desks or buried within the numerous bookshelf aisles. Even though there were three floors, the older crowd stayed on the main level. Upstairs was the child's floor, complete with a bean bag circle for story time, a fish tank, and hundreds of kid-friendly favorites. Downstairs in the basement was the teenager/young adult section. That's where the high school students liked to chill out and study, and it also was where the numerous conference and study rooms could be found. 

"Good morning y'all! Oh, Barbara- I told my mama about your walnut pie recipe and she practically fell in love! She's tryin' out the recipe for Christmas. Hi Mr. Cartwright; tell the grandkids I have another batch of cookies on the way for them!" Bitty greeted every person who came in with a personalized message, something he prided himself in. If he wasn't making each visitor feel special, then he wasn't doing his job right. After all, there wasn't much for him to do at the front desk anyways. He was the first and last face that people saw in the library, he helped people find certain books or genres, answered any and all questions, and checked out books and movies. Even the little guys can have big roles, right?

The last person from the crowd walks in- Joan- and says, "Ah Eric, deary. Your baking class was nice as always! I can't wait to see what we're making next Saturday!" She keeps walking with a big smile on her face and settles down at a computer desk.  _She always checks her email here_ , Bittle thought.

"Do you guys go to the same class or something?" Derek- ah-  _Nursey_  asked Bitty with a raised eyebrow. Bitty wasn't secretive about his class on the weekends, he just never found the right time to slip it into conversation with his coworkers.

"I teach a baking class on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Ellie's Bakery is right by my apartment and I started teaching the class two weeks ago. It's a lot of fun, and I'm trying to find a way to get on the part-time staff so I can spend the weekend afternoons there, too."

"You'll have literally no chill time."

"Baking is my 'chill' time, Nursey," Bitty laughed Nursey's concern, "It was my first love!"

Nursey raised an eyebrow, "Come again?"

"Nothing has ever gotten my heart going like baking does. You better believe I love it."

"Ok," Nursey drawled out, "I better check around to make sure everything is still tidy. I think Lardo's coming early today, and I prefer to not be scolded for slacking on my work."

"Oh you know she adores you," Bitty reassured, "She just doesn't want to get fired. Since she's a real employee and you're a volunteer, any work you skip out on is work she is scolded for not doing."

He waved Bitty off in a friendly way as he went to clean up the library. The blonde boy was left alone at the front desk for the next hour. Lardo came and greeted him upon her arrival, and went to check in and track Nursey down. She always worked out how they would split up chores.

The many libraries of Providence never saw much traffic because they were all so big, so even the largest number of people could walk around with plenty of extra room. Jefferson's was different. It was a fairly big library, but still the smallest out of them all. The current groups that it was handling each day (40 elders, 50 teens, 20 children, 30 adults) was more than enough. Even though they came and went in waves at various times, it was still a lot of work for the staff to keep up with. Not only that, but a new history course for adults was going to start up in the basement beginning that day. It was another 20 people or so. Bitty thought it was a group online class, but he could be wrong.

Lardo and Nursey came up the stairs from the teen floor in the basement, smiles on both of their faces. Lardo was the first to speak, "Hey Bits. When the high schoolers come in today, tell them that the first one to mess with the afternoon history class gets 20 bucks from me."

"No."

"Pleaseee. I want to scare off that nerd class crowd before they start making an actual mess downstairs," Lardo pleaded.

"Wait, dude. You know they're not like college dropouts, right? Bitty was telling me that they had to qualify for the class by having a Bachelor's Degree in history. This class is helping them get their Master's," Nursey piped up.

"What! Shit, ok. Tell me that  _before_ I come up here barking orders at Itty Bitty. Geez, Nurse," Lardo slapped her forehead and walked around behind the front desk to where Bitty was situated. Despite being 5 inches shorter than him, she knocked him over in a bear hug.

The three chatted for the next hour, discussing the latest news in the world of hockey, and what was happening in their own lives. They all got along really well considering the fact that they had only known each other for a short while. Bitty and Lardo started working at Jefferson's when it opened in October, and Nursey began volunteering at the start of November.

Before they knew it, the high schoolers were coming into the library to study and relax (Jefferson's was the close to one of the high schools), and then the three friends had to split up to make sure everything was in order. Nursey went to check on the children's floor upstairs and then came back downstairs to the central floor to organize the small mess the elders had made. Lardo went to the basement to keep an eye on the teens, some of which were still entering. There was a lot of them today.

Bitty was always at the front desk, and stayed put. Most people were reading inside the library instead of checking out books, so he didn't have much to do. To pass the time, Bitty pulled out his phone and opened twitter. That app was practically an extension of Bitty himself, and the boy wasn't ashamed to admit it. He let himself get lost in his news feed as time went on...

~~~

Jack could barely feel his legs by the time practice was over. Coach Motta had the team do suicides and flow drills with only a few, short breaks. Jack's quads felt like bricks, and the rest of his body was just in uncomfortable pain. He'd have to stretch quite a bit before going to the library. Motta (not to mention Marty) would be out to get Jack if he had to skip a game due to an injury.

Tater and Snowy are still showering when Jack arrives at the locker room. All the other men are washed and changing. Some are on their way out already.

"See you tomorrow, Zimms. Good luck at that history class," Guy called over to Jack as he made his exit. Jack waved him goodbye and smiled. 

As a young boy, Jack was never good at making friends. Everyone he skated with knew about his famous parents and their money, so they always came up and spoke to him with ulterior motives. He couldn't really trust many people (especially after someone tried to steal his wallet at a party). Jack began to shut people out, because in his mind people only associated him with money and fame instead of who he really was: Jack.

 He began reading into people's actions, and didn't trust anyone who his parents didn't already know. He got anxious being around strangers or in big crowds in case somebody knew him, and he hated the pressure that was put on him just because he was his father's son. His dad- Bad Bob- was a legend in the NHL, and everyone expected just as much from Jack. It was too much.

Everything changed when the overdose happened. It's not like Jack was trying to kill himself, but one pill led to another, and another, and whatever else it took to stop his anxiety attack. It was all too much, and he wanted to calm down as soon as possible. He hadn't even considered what those many pills could do to a person. 

In college, Jack made friends with the boys on his team very fast. One guy- Johnson- was unusually existential but still very welcoming. He befriended Jack and was Jack's ticket to getting close with the rest of the team. During his junior and senior year, Jack was the best player on the team, and one of the best in the entire NCHA. Professional teams were scrambling for him by graduation, and he ended up signing with the Providence Falconers. He's been on the team ever since, and everyone is so close. It's better than anything he could have ever imagined.

Coming out of his daze, Jack looked around the locker room to see that some other guys were leaving, and Jack was still standing by his locker in his smelly practice uniform. He stripped down and quickly hit the showers. He didn't want to be late on his first day of the online class. Within thirty minutes Jack was showered, packed, and on the road back to his apartment. He lived in a penthouse in the Eastern part Providence, which was conveniently close to the library he was going to now. Jefferson's was about a mile away, and the practice rink was two or three in another direction.  _Not too bad_ , Jack thought to himself,  _I'm almost in the middle of the two places, heh._

He dumped his stuff in his laundry room when he got inside his apartment, rushing to grab his toque and sweatshirt before heading out again. Being a true Canadian, the freezing weather didn't bother him as much as it should. He wouldn't be needing a real winter jacket until late December in the snowfall, so his old sweatshirt sufficed as a warm layer for the time being.

Jack checked his watch: 6:36 PM.  _Oh shit, I should leave now if I want to make it in time for the class. It starts at 7:00._

Without blinking an eye, he threw on his sneakers and grabbed his messenger bag with his laptop and notebook. Since the library was a mile away, it was going to take him about 17 minutes to walk there, and he wanted to be early. Jack locked the door on his way out and slid into the elevator. He was on his way to Jefferson's just moments later.

The walk there was chillier than Jack had expected. The wind was picking up and the sky was starry and dark, with flashing plane lights appearing every so often. On the way, Jack notices that some little shops have started to string up winter lights. He recognizes some of them, like the Antique Shop, Ellie's Bakery, and even the organic grocery. They all seem like nice places but Jack had never had the luxury of stopping by. He'd have to explore more of the nearby shops soon.

As he kept walking, some of the less popular shops came into view. Only a few were open. Jack passed by the Psychic Shop, the Butterfly Boutique, and the stationary store. The evening was quiet, with holiday music already humming from the sidewalk speakers. The shopping part of the neighborhood was soon coming to an end and opened up into a path next to the Woonasquatucket River. It was lit by dim street lights and nothing else.

Right before he could make his way to the river sidewalk, he heard a bell jingle to his left, and the door to the Psychic Shop swung open. A short, old, Russian woman stood in the doorway unmoving and stared right into Jack's eyes. The hairs on his neck stood up.

"You," she pointed a shaky finger at him, "You will come in for fortune reading."

"Wha-" was all Jack could manage to say before she hobbled over and ushered him inside. "I really shouldn't be here. I have a class at the library starting soon and I can't miss it," he tried to explain but the psychic ignore him.

"You are Jack Zimmermann. Hockey player. I would be fool not to do business with you. Fortune only take a few minutes, you see. Sit," she pushed him down into a chair seated at a small table. Seating herself at the other end. "Give me your hands. Face up," she ordered.

The old, Russian woman spent a few seconds tracing Jack's life lines and pressed into his palms. She had her eyes fixated on Jack's hands, but closed her eyelids and exhaled. Obviously in deep thought, the woman interpreted Jack's lines.

It didn't take long, and soon she was letting go of Jack's hands and looking him directly in the eyes, "Be careful," she advised, "Listen to inner voice telling you something is not right. People near you be in trouble soon."

_Wait...what?_

Jack protested, "I'm not sure I know what you mea-"

"And tell hockey team to come here. I watch you play in games, you know? Big fan. I like to see Alexei Mashkov here soon please... Thank you, you go now," she suddenly grabbed Jack by the arm and brought him back outside to the sidewalk. Before he could turn around and ask about what his fortune meant, she had closed and locked the door, a big  _SORRY, WE'RE CLOSED_ sign hanging in the window. 

"Huh," Jack said aloud to himself, "Listen to my inner voice— my conscience? People near me are in danger?"

Jack pondered his fortune for the rest of the walk to Jefferson's. He was not usually the type to dwell on what others said (a skill he had picked up when he started receiving criticism from sports talkshow hosts), but this fortune was, well, different than that. He hated the fact that somebody's words could affect him this much, and it's all because they implied the unknown future held something bad.

Now, Jack had learned to manage his anxiety fairly well. His counselor in college gave him good breathing exercises and cognitive behavior strategies for when he felt his anxiety was taking over. He didn't have access to his pills at all times, and he wanted to be take steps to become independent from pills. However, this fortune had shaken Jack in ways he never knew before. He couldn't stop thinking about how he might do something to harm people in the future, whether it be physically, mentally, or emotionally. How was he putting people in trouble? Could he prevent it? All of this overthinking was only overwhelming him on his walk, and Jack knew that if he kept at it then he'd be dealing with another anxiety attack. He hadn't had one in a while since he was managing his anxiety so well, but this oncoming one was hard to fight because his mental walls were falling. He was buckling under the weight of his anxiety.

 _Breathe, Jack. In, hold, and out. Count the time for your breaths. Calm down. Focus on your senses, relax your muscles. Ok, your heart is beating fast and your hands are sweaty. Work on slowing down your heart beat. Breathe. In, hold, and out._ He walked himself through the anxiety attack just like how his counselor had showed him. This strategy had worked every time before when he tried it, and it was still proving effective now. Jack gave himself a few minutes to fully come back to his normal levels, and soon after he felt well enough to keep walking. He wiped his palms on his pants before finishing the trip to the library.

Still, Jack was wondering about the people in danger. Was it his teammates, his friends, people he had yet to meet? At this point, these thoughts were no longer associated with anxiety, but rather curiosity. Jack wanted to find out what was going to happen; he hated the vaguely knowing about the unknown. 

With two minutes to spare, Jack made it to the library and entered the warm building. Within his first few steps, it smelled like apple pie and paper. There was soft chatter among the bookcases, and Jack noticed groups of older-aged people reading and browsing the web. The voices of teenagers floated up from the downstairs area. None of those people were going to be in his Master's History class, so Jack looked around for someone who vaguely resembled his age.

"Over here! Are you here for the online Masters course? For history? They already headed downstairs. Your class is meeting in the first conference room on your right. Oh- and if any of the teenagers try and talk to you, you're best off ignoring 'em. Lord knows they're never up to any good," the boy at the front desk had a Southern accent and buttery blonde hair. Pale freckles littered his nose and cheeks, and two big dimples accompanied his warm smile. His name tag read  _Eric_. 

"Thank you. I'd hate to be caught in an interrogation about the last game. I've had enough interviews to last a lifetime," Jack made a hockey joke and scratched the back of his neck. He really didn't know how to reply to what Eric had said, so hopefully that was fitting.

Eric's eyebrows raised in confusion, but not before Jack turned abruptly and hurried down the stairs to the conference room. His class was already taking out their computers and earbuds. 

 _It was going to be a long two hours in this conference room,_ thought Jack.


End file.
